He sighed. “I hate hoodman blind.” Then he kissed her mouth again. “But I love you.”
She smiled against his lips. “I love you, too. I shall take Charles to the nursery, and when I return, I will show you just how much.”
He already knew, but he was not about to argue. One more quick kiss, this one chaste, before he straightened. “Fair enough, but allow me to escort you, Mrs. Winter.”
Her smile deepened. “If you insist, Mr. Winter. I did miss you this evening when you were playing host to the gentlemen.”
“I missed you more,” he said.
Together, they took their sleeping son to the nursery.
Hoodman blind.
A damned drawing room game.
Blade was still disgusted with himself the next morning when he left the breakfast room. Ordinarily, a solid rasher of bacon, a plate of eggs, and some fruit was enough to please him. When a man knew what it was like to go hungry, he appreciated every meal he was given. But not even a belly full of excellent food could quell the irritation lurking within him.
There was no excuse for what he had done yesterday, no reason he had gone to the drawing room at all. Save one.
Her.
He had mingled with the other revelers all because he had known Lady Felicity would be there. And when she had been blindfolded, he had made certain he was the one with whom she came into contact first. She was not bloody well touching anyone else on his watch.
At least Demon, Gavin, and Genevieve were due to arrive soon, thank Christ. Mayhap he could distract himself with them. Regain his sanity. If indeed he possessed any.
He was questioning it more and more with each passing hour.
“There you are, Mr. Winter!”
He turned on his heel to find his hostess and sister-in-law, Lady Emilia Winter, approaching him. Despite the fact she was an aristocrat, daughter to a duke, she had been welcoming and friendly. Rather in the fashion of Dom’s and Devil’s wives.
Mayhap not all aristocratic ladies were awful.
He dismissed the notion. It hardly mattered anyway. It was not as if he were going to court Lady Felicity.Laughable!He had no need for a wife. There was an endless parade of petticoats waiting to share his bed. And take a wife?Ha! Never.
He bowed, astonished at himself. He was playing the gentleman with ease these days. “My lady. How may I be of service?”
“I was on my way to the yellow salon to fetch my sewing, but I also need to see to the entertainments planned for this evening. Do you think you might fetch it for me?” She smiled sweetly as she asked the question.
Christ.Did she not have a house filled with servants for such matters?
Yes, she did. But he was a guest. And damn it, although fetchingsewingrankled, at least it would give him something to do. Something useful. Something that did not involve giving in to his base urges and seeking out the maddening Lady Felicity.
The minx had called his shoulderssmalland his handsdainty. His outrage at the time had been diminished by the extreme desire her nearness and slow, innocent caresses had inspired. Impertinent baggage.
“I would be more than happy to, Lady Emilia,” he said, forcing thoughts ofherfrom his mind once more.
Abingdon House was a monstrous affair, but he had been in the yellow salon—it was where he had been duped into holding an infant the day before. He could find it on his own well enough.
“Thank you, Blade.” His half brother’s wife beamed. “Please do call me Emilia. We are family.”
Family. Still a strange notion, connected to these Winters. He still felt like a fish plucked from a river, suddenly thrust into a strange, unfamiliar world.
He blinked. “It would be my honor.”
His honor?Hell.Since when did a man born in the depths of the rookeries speak thus? Since when didBladesay such fucking tripe? Being in the monkery was making him spoony. The sooner he returned to London and this cursed house party was over, the better.
He bowed and made haste before he started dancing a cotillion or holding a quizzing glass to his eye. For a house that was filled with guests, the walk to the yellow salon was surprisingly bereft of any others.
